


Just seven little words

by The Dark ChessMaster (The_ChessMaster)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Wrong phone number
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 16:52:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_ChessMaster/pseuds/The%20Dark%20ChessMaster
Summary: Mr. Gold‘s terrible day is lighten up by a nice text message from an unknown number.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My collaboration to “A Monthly Rumbelle Event”. The prompt of September to the Non-smut category was "Wrong number".  
> Disclaimer: The usually. I don't own OUAT or Rumbelle.

Today was _that_ day of the year. The anniversary of Bae’s death. Usually in the eve of this day he would drink himself to oblivion, and would pass the day sleeping the hangover. And even though that was exactly what he wanted to do, he had been obliged to break the tradition. Today he had to close an important transaction with a very important, very picky client, and moving the appointment had been impossible. So now for the first time in _years_ he was going to work in this date.

One may think that with the passing of the years, the pain would lessen, and it would come a day when you could think about your loved one without feeling that pang of pain in your heart. That was what every person though until they lost a beloved. Then they discover that the pain never lessened, that you never “get over it” you just learn to live with it. He knew that very well; even after so many years, it still hurt like the day they told him his boy was death.

He was in his kitchen, getting ready for that awfully timed meeting, drinking his second cup of coffee, when his phone rang. He cursed under his breath the loud sound. His head hurt like hell, he had still gotten drunk the night before, not as drunk as other years but drunk enough to hate anything louder that a mouse.

It was a text message, a simple text message that took him ten bloody minutes to read. He seldom received messages and he didn’t have the best of understatement of technology; that was the only reason he continued using his out of date flip phone,it was a big blow to his reputation to use the older cellphone but it was the most advanced phone he could use, and he had only learned to use because Bae had told him how to.  Trying really hard to remember the lessons, he opened the message.

It was a short message, just seven little words that left him dumbstruck. "I hope you have a nice day".

His first coherent thought was that it was a wrong number case... because he, Mr. Gold, terror of StoryBrooke, didn’t receive text messages. He didn’t have anyone who would send him text messages, even less nice little details to bright up his day. Everyone of his deals were done in person and when not he called the person, in that way the person didn’t have the excuse of not reading the message.

More important if someone was sending him a text, he thought it would be something more… _rude_.

So a wrong number… someone wishing _their_ beloved a nice day, not him. But it was nice to close his eyes for some seconds and pretend, if just for a moment, that someone _cared…_

* * *

In little towns, there are really few things that could be kept in secret for a long time. And Belle had discovered an oddity that she was sure no many people had notice before and the ones that have notice were too afraid to comment about it.

Belle didn’t know why, but every year on the same date Mr. Gold would get drunk like it wasn’t a tomorrow. Maybe it was one of those strange yearly rituals, because otherwise the very composed man would never be catching drinking. She had discover it by accident, she was coming back home from her papa’s place after their monthly dinner when she passed for the pawnshop noticing it was closed but there were lights on in the back and a quiet sob could be heard. She had been unsure what to do, but doing the brave thing she had going inside the pawnshop, and she had found Mr. Gold sitting on his desk’s chair, completely wasted, crying softly and still drinking.

The image had broken her heart, and she had desired to be brave enough to go to him and console him. But she wasn’t brave enough and she just stood there, watching him cry and drink.

Latter that night, alone in the darkness of her bedroom she had cried, remembering how wretched he had looked… and in that moment in the deeps of the night she had vowed to help him, even if it was in just a menial thing.

And the time passed and the pawnbroker seemed to not even remember the episode.

In her part, Belle had spent some time looking for a subtle way to help him. She didn’t want him to realize that she had watched him that day. After all, Mr. Gold was a proud man, and he wouldn’t be happy to discover that someone witnessed him in his most vulnerable state.

In the end it had been Belle’s mom who gave her the perfect idea. Well not exactly Belle’s mom per see but a memory of her… Collette, Belle’s mom, used to write little nice things in her bills. She said it was something simple to help people and to put a smile on their faces.

And one year exactly after the day she had seen Mr. Gold brokenly crying on the back of his shop, she had once again seen the lights in the back at a late hour of the night. And she simply had known that it was the time to honor her vow.


End file.
